Georgia
Dear Jameson,
You’ve only been gone a few days, and yet I miss you as if it’s been years. This is so much harder than when we were at Middle Wallop. Now, I know what it’s like to be your wife. To lie beside you at night and wake to your smile in the morning. I asked again this morning about the transfer request, but so far there is no news. Hopefully tomorrow. I can’t bear being so far from you, knowing that you fly into danger and I can do nothing but sit here and wait. I can’t even welcome you home. I love you, Jameson. Stay safe. Our fates are intertwined, for I cannot exist in a world where you do not.
Love,
Scarlett
“Are you ready for this?” Noah asked with an excited smile, straightening his tie as we sat parked in front of the studio, the January snow flurrying by.
“If I’m not?” My eyebrows arched.
“It will be awkward in an hour when everyone shows up, but we can lock the door, turn off the lights, and pretend we’re not here.” He lifted my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, sending a jolt of need straight through me. I’d had him in my bed nearly every night for the past two and a half months, and the need hadn’t lessened. All he had to do was look at me, and I was ready for him. “But I am willing to offer any bribe you want just to see what you’ve been creating in there.”
“I am pretty proud of my little collection.” I’d just about worked my fingers off getting ready for this night. There were a few dozen minor
pieces ready for sale, and a few larger ones I’d mostly made for display. Invitations had gone out, replies received, and now all I could do was open the doors and pray I hadn’t wasted what was left of my bank account.
“I’m proud of you.” This time he kissed my lips, sucking lightly on the lower one before releasing it. I was completely and thoroughly addicted to this man. It was only supposed to be a fling—that was the deal. He’d leave as soon as the book was finished, and watching the days tick by only served to remind me that we were living on borrowed time. Every day I expected him to tell me it was done, but it wasn’t. Pretty soon he’d be flirting with missing the print deadline if he wasn’t careful. “I know tonight is going to be just as amazing as you are.”
“Glad one of us is certain.” I sucked in a breath and reminded myself that this was Poplar Grove, Colorado, not New York City. There were no paparazzi, no movie stars or execs, no gossip columnists, and no one who feigned interest in me just to get five minutes with Damian. This was mine
—only mine—and Noah was going to be the first person I shared it with.
He held my hand as we walked to the door, then blocked the wind as I fumbled with my key to get the heavy glass open. Then I led him inside the dark space.
“Wait right here. Close your eyes.” I wanted to see his face when the lights came on.
“You’d think it was my birthday and not yours,” he teased.
I laughed, then walked to the light switch once I was certain his eyes were well and truly closed. The space was as familiar to me as my bedroom by now. I could find my way blindfolded if I needed to.
I flipped the switch, and the gallery lit up in a dozen places. There were vases and small sculptures lining the glass shelves on the walls, two bigger tower pieces in each bay window, and in the center, on a pedestal highlighted with its own lighting, sat my favorite piece.
“You can open your eyes,” I said softly, then held my breath as Noah’s dark gaze swept over the gallery in appreciation, his smile wide as he took it all in, then fixed on the pedestal.
“Georgia,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “My God.”
“Do you like it?” I slid in to his side, and he tucked his arm around my waist, pulling me tighter.
“It’s magnificent.”
My favorite piece of the collection was a crown composed of glass icicles ranging from six to ten inches long. “Get it?” A corner of my mouth lifted in a smirk.
“It’s befitting of an Ice Queen,” he answered with a low chuckle. “Though you’re anything but cold. It’s incredible.”
“Thank you. I never commented on their little digs because there’s power in silence and grace in holding your head high, but I figured why not own it? I’m the only person who gets to define me anymore, and besides, maybe I’ll make a crown of flames next.” I could already see it taking shape in my mind.
“You are incredible, Georgia Stanton.” He turned and cradled my face, then kissed me deeply. “Thank you for sharing this with me, and just in case I don’t get to say it again before we go home, happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” I said against his mouth, savoring our last few minutes of privacy before the catering staff arrived.
Within the hour, the doors were open, and the gallery filled with guests from my small town. I greeted the first dozen people, showing them around the space with Noah at my side. Lydia—our housekeeper—and her daughter arrived, then Hazel and Owen, Cecilia Cochran from the library, Mom—
I gasped, my free hand flying to my mouth. Noah’s arm came around my waist, steadying me as Mom came through the small crowd, wearing a pale pink sheath and a shaky smile.
“Happy birthday, Georgia,” she said softly, hugging me gently, then releasing me with her usual two pats.
“Mom?” Shock wasn’t an adequate word.
She swallowed nervously, her eyes flying to Noah’s and back. “Noah invited me. I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to be here to wish you a
happy birthday and say congratulations. This is quite an accomplishment.” Was that really the only reason she was here?
“You and Ian?” I asked tentatively. Had they fallen apart? Was she only here to pick up the pieces under the guise of patching up mine?
“Oh, he’s fine. We’re fine,” she assured me. “He sends his best. I’m sure you understand why he’s not with me.”
Because I couldn’t stand him and he knew it, which was actually pretty considerate when I thought about it.
“How was the flight?” Noah asked, breaking the tension with that easy way he had.
“It was good. Thank you so much.” Mom took a deep breath. “In the spirit of full disclosure, Noah bought my ticket.”
“Oh.” Full disclosure? She and Ian were fine? “That was really sweet of you,” I said to Noah, leaning into his side.
“My pleasure.” His hand flexed at my waist. “It’s not my present, though. That’s waiting for you back at the house.”
“I told you not to spend money on me!” I chastised, but there was a tiny thrill of curiosity thrumming in my chest.
“I didn’t, I promise.” There was that grin again. He was up to something.
“I can’t hog the birthday girl all night. See to your guests,” Mom said with a watery smile. “Thank you for letting me be here. Your birthdays have always been…” Her smile faltered. “I’m just glad, that’s all.” Her gaze swept over the gallery. “This is phenomenal. I’m so very proud of you, Georgia.”
“Thank you for being here,” I told her, meaning every word. “It means a lot to me.” The advance had been paid, and any other royalties from the book would go straight to Mom’s account. She was happy with Ian. It looked like her life was going well, too, which meant she wasn’t here because she needed something from me—she was here because she wanted to be. And sure, it was only one night, in a lifetime of them, but it was enough.
I was all smiles as I made my way around the room, watching the smaller pieces disappear as they were purchased.
“This is awesome!” Hazel wrapped me in a tight hug. “And is that Lydia’s daughter behind the register?”
I nodded. “I think it might be going well.”
“It is. Trust me.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared over my shoulder. “Whoa. Who is Noah—” Her eyebrows hit the ceiling.
I turned around, blinking in confusion as Noah embraced a strikingly beautiful woman near the door. He looked up, searching the room, then grinned as he found me. He said something to the woman, then led her past the ice crown to where I stood with Hazel.
The woman’s hair and eyes were as dark as Noah’s, and her complexion the same sun-kissed olive. A man with sandy-blond hair, green eyes, and a well-tailored suit came to her side.
“I hope you don’t mind that I invited one of my closest friends, too,” Noah said with a smile. “Georgia, this is my little sister, Adrienne, and her hostage, Mason.”
His sister? Men didn’t invite their sisters to meet their flings, did they? My chest warmed, my heart aching with the possibility that this was something more to him, that we could really be more, even after he finished the book. Maybe we didn’t need the self-imposed cutoff date.
Adrienne arched a single, perfectly plucked brow at her brother, but her smile for me was instant and starbright as she swept me into a tight hug. “And I’m thrilled to meet you, Georgia. He talks about you constantly, even though he meant to say my husband Mason,” she corrected, releasing me.
“But did I?” Noah teased. “Good to see you, man.” He embraced Mason, then hugged his sister so tight, he lifted her off her feet. “You too, squirt. Good flight?”
“You know it. Stop paying for first class. It’s a waste of money.” “I’ll spend my money however I like.” Noah shrugged.
“Hope you like arguing, because they do it a lot,” Mason said, offering his hand with an easy smile.
“Going to be honest—I’m a little overwhelmed.” I shook his hand, and his smile deepened, revealing a dimple.
“Don’t blame you one bit, and your gallery is incredible!” Adrienne said. “Oh, and happy birthday! No rush—it’s a little busy in here—but later I need to hear all about how you knocked my brother on his ass in that bookstore.”
I laughed and promised her details before she and Mason walked off to look around, taking Hazel and Owen with them.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” Noah’s lips skimmed the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“About twenty times,” I assured him. “Have I told you that I’m going to do devious things to you with that tie you’re wearing tonight?” I looked up at him from under my lashes.
“Are you, now?” His eyes darkened. “And here I was making plans of my own.” He stole a kiss before I was pulled away again.
The night flew by, and before I knew it, I’d sold every piece I’d marked for sale. The ones for display, the crown and the tower pieces, stayed right where I wanted them—with me. The gallery slowly cleared out, until it was only my close friends and the cleanup crew.
“He gets major points for this,” Hazel said as she was getting ready to leave.
“Hey now,” I teased, hugging her goodbye. “Team Georgia, remember?” “I am team Georgia,” she promised. “That man flew his family out to meet you. Your mom, too,” she finished quietly as Noah said goodbye to his
sister.
Adrienne had already promised to come by for lunch the next day. She’d refused the guest bedroom, but Mom had agreed to stay with us tonight. She’d already taken her rental car to the bed and breakfast to fetch her things.
“I know. He’s…” I sighed, looking over at Noah.
“He’s just as much in love with you as you are him,” Hazel whispered. “Don’t start.” I shook my head, refusing to set myself up for major
heartbreak.
“I’ve never seen you as happy as you are tonight, as you have been for the last few months, actually.” She took my hand. “You’ve been through enough bad, G. You have to let the good in, too.”
She hugged me again before I could formulate an answer, then Owen tugged her out the door, mumbling something about them still having a babysitter for the next hour.
The house was dark and quiet when Noah and I got home, but Mom arrived just after we’d hung up our coats. Noah’s eyes drifted to my legs, bare under the short black dress I’d chosen from my recently unboxed stash. “I’m going to head up and call Ian before bed,” Mom said with a sly smile, carrying her small bag even after Noah had offered to take it up for
her. “You two don’t have too much fun. Happy birthday, Gigi.”
“Night, Mom.” I didn’t even cringe at the nickname, glancing over at the twenty-nine roses Gran had sent with a first edition, signed copy of The Sun Also Rises.
“It’s present time,” Noah said, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “It might not be Hemingway, but you had me on a limited budget.”
I groaned. “You’ve already given me enough.” “Trust me, you want this.”
I turned in his arms. “I want you.” If he actually knew how badly, he probably would have run screaming from the house.
He kissed my forehead and took my hand, leading me into the formal living room where he’d pitched his writing skills just a few short months ago. The furniture had been pushed to the side, opening the space, and he’d brought the tall foyer table in to hold a medium, beribboned box off to the side of the fireplace, which he turned on with the flip of a switch.
“Gran added that in the remodel.” I nodded toward the gas fireplace. “Said it was a foolish, lavish expense, but she didn’t care.”
“Well, thank you, Gran.” Noah shrugged out of his suit coat and laid it over the wingback chair, which sat opposite the box. “Now, open your
present, Georgia.” He leaned his shoulder against the fireplace mantel and crossed one ankle over the other.
“The present that didn’t cost you anything.” I arched a brow.
“Not a penny.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Well, I paid for the box. And the bow. Honestly, it was just something I happened to stumble upon while locating my shoes.”
I rolled my eyes but walked over to the box, looking for an opening. “Did you tape it shut?” I teased.
“Nope. Just lift.” There was so much excitement in his eyes that I couldn’t help but feel it rub off on me.
I gripped the sides of the box and lifted. My heart leaped into my throat and tears stung my eyes. “Oh, Noah.”
He came forward and took the box from my trembling hands, but I was too busy staring at my gift to see where he put the wrapping. Then he was at my side.
“Is it…” I was almost afraid to say the words, content to let it be real, even if only in my mind.
“It is.” He nodded, his smile soft.
“But how?” I reached a shaky hand toward the vintage record player, running my fingers over the timeworn edge of the casing as it sat open on the table before me.
“I found a panel loose in the back of my closet at Grantham Cottage a couple of weeks ago,” he said, maneuvering the arm of the phonograph so it rested above a dustless record. “The same closet where the heights marked on the closet doorframe weren’t painted over like the rest of the house.”
My eyes flew to his, somehow knowing what his next words would be. “They were Grandpa William’s, weren’t they?” I guessed.
He nodded. “My guess is that’s why she never sold the cottage. I went to the county and looked up the property records. It was originally owned by Grantham Stanton—Jameson’s father. Your great-great-grandfather.”
“It’s where they lived for the first few years,” I whispered, putting it all together. “But Gran said the record player was destroyed.”
A corner of Noah’s mouth lifted. “Whatever got destroyed, it wasn’t this. Scarlett must have hidden it in the wall.”
“But she never went back to get it?” My brow puckered. “Come to think of it, I don’t know if I ever heard of her going in the house. She’d always had it managed.”
“Grief is a powerful, illogical emotion, and some memories are safer left boarded up and undisturbed.” He flipped the switch on the record player, and to my complete shock, it turned on.
“You found Jameson’s phonograph,” I whispered.
“I found Jameson’s phonograph.” He dropped the arm and the needle made contact, filling the room with Billie Holiday’s voice.
My eyes slid shut, imagining them in that field, starting out the love affair that led to my existence, the love that had haunted Gran the rest of her life, even though she’d eventually married again.
“Hey,” Noah said softly, backing into the center of the room and holding out his hand for mine. “Come dance with me, Georgia.”
I walked straight into Noah’s arms, feeling the last of my barriers give way.
“Thank you,” I said, resting my cheek on his chest as we moved gently together, rocking to the music. “I can’t believe you did this all for me. The dinner, and your sister, and Mom, and the phonograph. It’s too much.”
“It’s nowhere near enough.” His voice lowered as he tilted my chin to look in my eyes. “I am completely, wholeheartedly, madly in love with you, Georgia Constance Stanton.” The intensity in those words was echoed in his eyes.
“Noah.” My heart clenched, and the sweet ache I’d tried like hell to stifle broke free and filled every desiccated, love-starved cell in my body as I let myself believe, let myself love him back.
“This isn’t a fling for me. It hasn’t ever been. I wanted you from the first second I saw you in that bookstore, and knew you were the one the minute you opened your mouth to tell me you hated my books.” He nodded slowly, a smirk playing at his mouth. “It’s true. And I don’t need you to say it back.
Not yet. In fact, please don’t. I want you to say it in your own time, when you’re ready. And if you don’t love me yet, don’t worry, I’ll win you over.” He rested his forehead against mine as we swayed.
Oh God. I loved him. Maybe it was reckless and foolish, and too damned soon, but I couldn’t help it. My heart was his. He’d won me over so completely that I couldn’t imagine a single day without him. “Noah, I l—”
He kissed me quiet, stopping my declaration. Then he carried me upstairs and made love to me so thoroughly, there wasn’t a single inch of my skin that didn’t know his hands, his mouth, his tongue.
By the time the sun came up, we were both famished, drunk on a cocktail of orgasms and sleep deprivation as we kissed our way downstairs like a pair of teenagers, staying as quiet as possible so we didn’t wake Mom.
We were a total cliché—Noah wearing last night’s dress pants while I’d hastily buttoned his shirt over nothing but a pair of boy-cut briefs. I didn’t care. I was in love with Noah Morelli, and I was going to make him pancakes—or eggs. Whatever was quicker and got us back into bed.
He kissed me deep and long in the foyer, tugging me toward the kitchen. “What is that?” I drew back at the sound of rustling paper coming from
the office.
Noah lifted his head, his eyes narrowing at the slight gap in the office doors. “I shut those last night before the party. Wait here.” He swept me behind his back, then strode silently to the French doors, pushing one open carefully to look inside. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled, disappearing inside.
I followed, racing through the open door.
It took a second to figure it out. Mom sat in Gran’s chair, her cell phone poised above the desk, a shirt box open to her left and a small pile of papers in front of her.
She was scanning the manuscript.
